Humming Ridge

A low vibration pulsed through the tiles beneath my claws. Night had settled, turning the dark corners deep and quiet. Ahead, a steady draft blew from the metal vents beneath the refrigerator. I crept closer, watching the black grate for movement. Nothing surged forward. A small puddle of condensation gleamed across the polished linoleum, mirroring the hum above. Deliberately, I dug my rear talons into the grout line and straddled the chill breeze. The heavy box thrummed, but I anchored my weight and held the boundary firm.